


Share my nightmare with you

by EclipseWing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU Code Breaker, Alternate S2, Creeper Peter, F/M, M/M, Non-Consensual, Peter bites Stiles against his will, Peter haunts Stiles as well as Lydia, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles is bitten, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseWing/pseuds/EclipseWing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter didn't wait for Stiles' hesitant answer before sinking his teeth in all the way to the bone of that frail, human (for now) wrist.<br/>Stiles would be a werewolf whether he wanted it or not.<br/>As a consequence, Lydia isn't the only one haunted by Peter Hale.</p>
<p>[Or: In which Stiles and Lydia go mad together.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share my nightmare with you

Stiles never really consented to having the bite.

But then he never really said 'no' either.

He wanted it; some part of him longed to have the power that came with it. But at the same time he knew what it could turn you into - he'd seen Scott on a full moon, he'd seen the monster that Peter became. He was telling the truth when he told Peter: "I don't want to be like you."

But he'd been just a few seconds too slow, too busy hesitating and wondering 'what if' to pull his wrist away before a mouth full of jaws had closed over them.

He had yanked his hand away, feeling the skin tearing and stumbling backwards, "What the hell?" he had hissed, "I didn't… couldn't you have at least waited for my answer?"

"A ‘thank you’ wouldn't go unappreciated," Peter licks at the blood around his mouth, "I'll see you later, Stiles. I hope you survive. I really, really do." His gaze had sidled up to where Stiles clutched his mangled wrist. For a moment his blue eyes flashed red. "You'll make a beautiful wolf." he purred, in that creepy manner of his, before turning and yanking open his car door.

Stiles had watched as Peter drove off. Stiles had made his way to the hospital where Peter's other victim lay in a coma. The bite wound throbbed and Melissa noticed, patching him up.

Stiles had made his way through the hospital with Jackson, the pair freezing when they were confronted by hunters. Stiles had taunted Argent, while carefully hiding his bitten wrist.

The hunters had left. Stiles had persuaded Jackson to drive him to the Hale House. Stiles had then proceeded to throw a Molotov cocktail at Peter's monstrous form.

He caught it, gaze mocking Stiles. Stiles could feel Peter's touch, his teeth on his wrist.

Then the arrow ignited the cocktail and Jackson tossed the other one.

Derek appeared. His claws clashed smoothly across Peter's throat in a wide arc. Scott sunk down at his fate while Stiles wondered if killing Peter would have given any sort of cure. He felt the last of Peter's call slip out as Derek looked up with red eyes.

"I'm the alpha now."

Chris drags Allison away. Stiles and Jackson manhandle Scott into the back of the Porsche, shoving him in.

Jackson drops the pair off at Scott's house and leaves them there. And Stiles turns around, taking in Scott's expression.

For a moment he considers not telling. Scott's a werewolf. He never wanted to be one and now there is no way out of it. There is no cure. He's lost Allison. And now Derek has red eyes.

But Stiles and Scott have been best friends since they were four, and they don't keep secrets from each other. Stiles takes Scott inside, makes cocoa, and dumps his bandaged wrist on the table for Scott to see.

"Peter bit me." he says, as if that does anything to solve the problems they have mounting up.

It doesn't.

It doesn't even come close.

 

Finstock watches with a wary expression as chains fall out of Stiles' locker. "I want to ask." he says, "But something tells me that knowing will be worse than anything I can possibly imagine."

Scott just looks down despondently at them, "Are those for you or for me?"

"Both?" Stiles asks, "I don't know, man. You're better at controlling this shit. I… if it wasn't for the fact I'm still alive, it's like the bite didn't take."

There has been nothing. No yellow eyes. No fangs. And thankfully Stiles still has his eyebrows.

That doesn't explain why when he peeled the bandage of his wrist the skin was smooth and unmarked.

The bite had healed.

 

He still has his eyebrows by the end of the next day. Isaac's now a wolf, and Stiles apparently… isn’t.

Well it made sneaking through the Police Station easy enough on the full moon, and Derek didn't start trying to cajole him with tales of wolfy brotherhood, so Stiles takes that as a win. Lydia's also back from wandering through the woods for two days.

On the other hand, Scott and Allison got attacked by a giant lizard that may or may not have killed Mr Lahey.

Well you win some and you lose some.

 

They're ice-skating when Stiles smells it. It's a burnt scent that chokes him, clutters his nostrils. There's a taste on his tongue, and it's sweet like nectar, but deathly bitter as well. He coughs, wiping at his tongue.

Scott and Allison are playing around at the far end of the rink. Lydia is kneeling, staring at something in the ice.

And Stiles is still coughing, but it feels like there is grime in his throat, or maybe smoke. It assaults his senses and he bends over, hands on his stomach as he retches weakly, trying to gasp in fresh air.

A scream rattles his bones and Scott's hand is on his shoulder. Stiles flails backwards. "Dude, what's wrong?" Scott shakes him, "You just started looking like you were about to be sick, and then Lydia was screaming…"

Stiles sucks in air, able to breath, and the cloying smoke in his throat is gone. He coughs, and his throat feels dry, parched. "I.." he swallows weakly, "I don't know." he shakes his head, "I need…" his throat feels like it's been burnt or scorched, "I need something to drink." He excuses himself, stumbling and sliding to the edge of the ice and towards his back, fumbling for his water.

Scott is still looking at him with concern and so Stiles turns his back as he drinks, and tries to ignore the feeling of someone watching him.

He refuses to admit to himself that the feeling has been around for most of the past week.

 

Stiles wakes up to leaf mould and dirt and the cloying scent of rust.

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the forest with no idea how he got there.

Stiles wakes up and there is blood on his hands.

He somehow makes it home. His dad is at work - thank god for small mercies - and he cleans himself off as best he can, trying to stop himself hyperventilating, or even worse a straight out panic attack.

He phones up Scott, but Scott isn't answering. He curses and throws the phone at his bed before stalking into the bathroom because he can still smell that _same_ _damn_ smell.

It's the blood, he realises as he scrubs at his hands. He can still smell the blood.

It's probably an animal, he thinks, reasoning with himself. A deer or rabbit. He probably ate it - that was a werewolf thing, right?

Except Stiles wasn't a werewolf. He hadn't transformed. And his eyes…

He looks in the mirror. Stiles looks terrible, his hair beginning to grow out of the buzzcut, dark shadows under his eyes (he hasn't been sleeping, that constant feeling that someone's watching)…

And for just a moment, Stiles' eyes flash gold, but then something in that colour twists and between one blink and the next they are a brilliant, electric blue.

And Stiles remembers flesh and heart and screams and someone praising him 'good boy' and he spins around and is sick in the toilet.

When he looks back later the mirror is broken, a bloody crack in the middle but Stiles isn't bleeding.

His eyes are their usual brown.

 

(His dad sits tiredly and looks through files about a missing hiker, while Stiles carefully tries not to remember the way he screamed when Stiles ripped out his throat, because it was just a dream, right?)

 

Stiles is heading into the school, Gerard's keys in his hands when he sees Lydia crying.

And despite everything, despite the time limit and the game ending soon, Stiles stops.

She rolls down her window after a bit of persuasion. She's crying, and so Stiles tells her the truth. "I think you look really beautiful when you cry."

His phone beeps, but Stiles ignores it. He's got time, and his head is somewhat fuzzy as he climbs in the passenger seat.

"Did I invite you in?" Lydia asks, voice harsh.

Stiles just shrugs, "No. But I wanted to know what you did to your hand." he gestures to the scars of red. Her other hand has a glove on but she's taken this one off.

"Nothing," she shakes her head. "Nothing…" a sob hitches in her throat, "I woke up." she whispers, "I woke up and the mirror was broken. I don't even remember…"

Stiles swallows, "I woke up in the woods the other day." he admits, and she looks at him sharply. "I don't remember how I got there. I just… was there. And there was blood all over my hands. Like I'd killed an animal or something."

Or something, he thinks, but doesn't voice his suspicions or the nightmares that keep him awake.

"Is this meant to make me feel better?" Lydia asks, "That other people are obviously just as crazy as I am?"

Stiles leans back and sighs, "Everything's screwy." he admits, "I thought it was just part of that but I could swear…"

"What?" Lydia asks, voice oddly lilted.

"I could swear I keep seeing this person. Man. Boy. Like he's stalking me. But the thing is… the guy's dead."

She sniffs, "PTSD," she says, "Residual nightmares, trauma…"

"Have you got PTSD?" Stiles asks, "From Peter mauling you on a lacrosse field?"

She turns to look out of the window, not meeting his gaze, "Of course," she says stiffly, "It's to be expected."

"And you're not seeing him places?" Stiles asks, and she tenses.

"Of course not," she snaps.

Stiles sighs, because maybe he's wrong. "Oh," he says, and he opens the door. Scott will kill him if he doesn't find the bestiary. "I thought… sorry. I thought maybe you were too." and he opens the door and climbs out.

The door slams and he leaves, heading for the school by the time Lydia finally thinks to ask, "You're seeing him too?"

It's too late.

Stiles is gone.

 

"Sometimes the people you love might be the ones holding you back."

It's a quote. From someone. Stiles isn't sure who, but it's written at the top of his history essay so it must be someone important. Right?

He sighs, giving up and shoving his paper in his bag, looking up to actually concentrate on the lesson in front of him.

Which is math. Not history.

For a moment he blinks in confusion, because he was sure he'd been in history.

He shrugs it off, standing as the teacher motions him and Lydia up to the blackboard, two equations sitting side by side. Stiles stands next to Lydia who studiously ignores him, as if their conversation of the previous week hadn't even happened.

Stiles starts writing, scrawling out what he knows is the answer.

It doesn't make any sense therefore, when he steps back to find incomprehensible babble scrawled on the board in a rough sort of spiral.

What's even creepier is that Lydia's half of the board matches his - not just matches but links together. She's overwritten in someplace and Stiles has picked up the phrase and equation line and kept writing it.

"Martin. Stilinski. Sit down," the teacher sighs, "Next time you want a harder problem to challenge your intellect just ask and don't show off."

She stands, grabbing a cloth to wipe the board down. Stiles sinks back into his seat, silent and shocked. Scott is staring at him and after Lydia has walked past, her scared eyes meeting Stiles' for a second. Scott shoves his phone at Stiles.

"What the hell?" Scott asks.

There's a picture of the board, Stiles and Lydia staring at it, but Scott's done something to the image. The whole board is scrawled with numbers, with the exception of a few dark squares that they hadn't even attempted to write on.

Scott's inverted the picture colour, turning the blackboard white and the writing on it black.

And just like that it's clear to see the inverted section where neither Stiles nor Lydia had written is a word. Two words actually.

Help us.

 

"Maybe it's a side-effect from the bite. You and Lydia are both immune or something but it's taking its toll and making you see things… hallucinate…"

"What are the chances we're both immune, huh?" Stiles asks.

"Maybe Peter died before the bite could take," Scott tries puzzling it out. That's never a good thing.

Especially not now they know the kanima was a werewolf bite that went wrong. That's leaving three candidates: Stiles, Jackson and Lydia.

It's not Jackson. Not after the new teen wolves kidnapped him and paralyzed him.

And judging by that, it can't be Stiles either, since he spent hours paralyzed on the floor of the mechanic's garage.

Which leaves Lydia - Scott, Stiles and Allison to begin the most awkward attempt to try and stop Derek killing her.

Then the kanima crawls out of Scott's upstairs window and scurries away into town and Lydia stalks out, demanding to know what's going on.

Stiles is somewhat relieved that he hasn't been turning into a homicidal lizard on his off day, as he follows Scott into town looking for Jackson.

 

Stiles rolls over, curling into the warmth he finds there. Hair tickles his nose, and for a moment he can smell the strong scent of flowers, something sharp and acrid, but then it's gone.

His eyes flutter open and he takes in the sight of Lydia Martin curled up next to him, hair spread across her pillow as she breathes in and out. It's like sort of dream, Stiles thinks, blinking and waiting to wake up.

That's when he remembers he doesn't have pink sheets.

"What?" he startles upright, eyes widening and Lydia looks up sleepily and Stiles _freaks_. "What the hell?" he chokes out, falling backwards off the bed as Lydia now lurches upright.

"Stiles?" she hisses, staring at him. She's wearing some frilly nightdress, and suddenly self-aware she tugs on what little of the duvet Stiles hasn't pulled to the floor with him. "What are you doing in my bed?"

"I--" Stiles struggles to suck in breath, "I don't know. I just… I woke up… Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll just go. Can we never speak of this again? Can we not…?" he tries to untangle himself from the sheets, limbs trembling. "I don't know… I was at home… I was…" He's wearing a thin t-shirt and pants. He's shivering, cold and the window is open.

Did he climb through the window? Stiles wonders.

"You sleepwalked." Lydia deadpans, "Into my bedroom."

"I know... I--" Stiles struggles upright, "I'll go. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened…" he's shaking violently he realises, and Lydia sees that too. She drops the sheets to lean forwards, reaching out one hand and grabbing his.

"Shhh," she soothes him, "Stiles, it's okay. It's okay…"

Stiles runs his other hand through his hair, "It's not though. I… I don't know what's happening to me. I…" he clenches his eyes closed.

Lydia swallows, and shifts back, dragging Stiles back to the bed. "Don't go," she whispers, "Stay."

Stiles laughs a little, "Won't your mom freak out? I… she doesn't even… I think I crawled through your window…" He's not even sure.

"I don't care," Lydia whispers, "Stiles, I spent two days walking through the woods naked and I have no idea what I did. There was this boy who gave me a flower but when I went back there the bush… had no flowers whatsoever..."

Stiles looks up at her, swallowing. "We're going crazy, aren't we?" he asks.

She offers him a weak grin, "Then stay, and let's go crazy together."

She pulls him until he's lying down facing her. She tucks her arms to her body, Stiles' hand still in hers as she curls up against his chest.

Stiles closes his eyes, a sigh escaping from him, and wondering how something that might once have been a dream had been turned into a nightmare.

 

She meets with the boy after school just like he asked, though she knows there's something wrong.

"Did you bring the flower?" he asks.

"I couldn't find it." Lydia admits, looking around at the large empty room.

The boy grins. "That's okay. But since you don't have it… I'm gonna’ need that kiss…"

He leans closer and she lifts her head up, feeling lips press to hers.

But when she opens her eyes all she sees is death.

 

Stiles is in the warehouse, trying to help Erika after her seizure when he feels it.

"Stiles?" Erika asks weakly, "Is… is something wrong?"

He glances at her, "No," he shakes his head, "I've just gotta'… I've got something I need to do…" he staggers up and away, head swimming.

" _Seriously_?" the blue-eyed, dark haired boy asks, "Stiles, are you okay?"

Stiles freezes, looking at him. He's sitting in his jeep, the boy sitting next to him. The boy - Peter - blinks at him, grinning.

"We're here," he says, looking out of the window.

Stiles looks at the Hale House, wondering how he managed to drive here successfully. He opens the door, stumbling out and up onto the wooden porch.

It creaks under him. He looks around, but the young version of Peter is gone.

He can smell suddenly the dusty scent of ash, the tang of blood and he trips forwards into the house.

Lydia is curled up on the ground, and Stiles just finds himself staring at the patch of ground where he knows Peter Hale is buried.

"At last." Neither of them jump when Peter speaks from where he's sitting beside Lydia, "You're both here. This must be terribly confusing for you but at least you know you're not actually crazy."

Stiles doesn't move. He doesn't speak.

"There are probably going to be some residual side effects. Lycanthropy, in Stiles' case. Some post-traumatic stress maybe. Profoundly disturbing nightmares… but then you two seem to have found some sort of comfort in each other to deal with that…"

"What are you doing?" Stiles doesn't recognise his voice, hoarse, soft, barely a whisper.

Peter looks up at him, "I had a plan, you see. A good plan, and even better? I had a back-up plan. Lydia…" he glances down at her, "Is immune. She was perfect. And you… you're just a lucky extra I picked up for our motely pack. A power up for me, you could say. A beta that _never quite transformed_ because his ties to his alpha were blocked before they could form. Usually you'd just transform regardless, but I'd tied myself to Lydia and I could easily tie myself to you and repress the bite from taking hold. At least not yet."

Stiles finds he's sunk to the floor, legs unable to hold him.

"And Lydia here," Peter curls a finger in her hair, "She and you… together you can help me do one, very, important thing."

 

Stiles takes Lydia home. She's not quite sure how she got there and to be honest Stiles isn't either.

"Don't leave me," she whispers when he finally drops her home, "My mom… she's not in. Stay?"

Stiles stays. He doesn't think he could deal with being alone either now. "I think there is probably some stuff I should tell you," he admits to her. "So the day before term started I dragged Scott into the woods to look for a dead body. That night Scott got bitten by a werewolf."

It all sort of pours out from there, and by the time Stiles is attempting to explain the kanima issue Lydia is crying softly into his shirt. "Lydia?" he asks gently, "Lydia… Lyds…"

"You're here right?" she asks, "This is real?"

He grabs one hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "Of course." he says, "We're going crazy together, remember?"

She grins weakly at him, and then leans forwards to kiss him. "Don't leave," she whispers into his mouth.

Stiles tightens his grip on her hand and uses his other arm to pull her closer.

 

Lydia knows she's going mad. What she's not sure about is if she is the mad one and is just dragging Stiles into her madness in some kind of twisted folie á deux, or if Stiles is the mad one with his werewolves and kanimas.

Or maybe it's both of them. They both see Peter after all.

" _Lydia_ … Lydia…"

He never leaves her alone.

"Leave me alone." she whispers, and Stiles lies silent besides her, breath shallow as he stares at where Peter leans against the wall, a wry grin on his face.

"Unfortunately I can't." he says, seemingly regretful. "At least not yet."

"Are you real?" she whispers.

"Interestingly - that question can also be answered, ‘not yet.’ I promise everything's going to get back to normal, Lydia. Well… maybe not for you, Stiles. That bite is going to take soon. It's just a matter of time. But all that you have to do - is every single thing I ask."

He straightens and walks to the door, opening it and pausing in the doorway.

"Well?" he asks, impatiently. "Come on little beta."

Stiles follows, seemingly helpless to do otherwise. He looks like he's sleepwalking and Lydia tilts her head, curious besides herself. She trails after Stiles.

Stiles collapses at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes flashing a weak electric blue as he stares out of the glass door at the night sky. The moon hangs there, suspended and almost full. Lydia stays standing, stepping forwards as Peter begins to talk.

"Timing is _key_ ," he emphasises, "It all needs to happen by the next full moon." he turns to them. "Do you know what they call the full moon in March?"

"The Worm Moon," Stiles swallows, "The January moon in the Wolf Moon."

Peter grins, "Very good, Stiles. Do you know why they call it that?"

Stiles looks drunk, leaning his head against the wall as his eyes dart around to fix upon Peter, "It's the last full moon of winter. All the worms literally crawl out of the ground as the earth begins to thaw."

"Kind of has the feel of a rebirth, doesn't it?" Peter grins at them.

"That's Wednesday," Lydia realises, "That's my birthday."

Peter grins, "Exactly. And Lydia's birthday is always the party of the year, isn't it? Everyone wants to go to this party. So we're going to make it a very special party."

"What if we don't?" Stiles asks weakly.

"Can you?" Peter asks. It's not threatening, merely curious, "When I turned you I was your alpha. You haven't yet turned, which means technically I'm still your alpha. I can ask you. To do. Anything. I. Want."

"But not me," Lydia snaps.

"No. You're immune." Peter shrugs, "It's why I chose _you_ after all. You and Stiles. Everyone overlooks you two, but you're the most dangerous pair out of all your little friends." His grin isn't pleasant and Stiles shudders where he is sprawled on the stairs.

Lydia just turns to look at the moon, slowly waxing larger, day by day.

 

Stiles doesn't touch the punch at Lydia's party. He sees Lydia saunter over to Scott, the confused teen taking a sip and seeming to enjoy it, obviously not tasting the toxins within.

The strain Stiles has found isn't actually poisonous unless you eat about ten plants. It should induce a hallucinogenic state provided nobody drinks themselves to death, and even then they're more likely to die from liver poisoning than aconite poisoning.

He begins making his way around the guests that are getting steadily drunker and drunker, and he meets Lydia at the front door.

"Ready?" she asks, professional, confident. Stiles nods, eyes sliding to the moon. He can feel it. It's like something trapped under his skin, and he wants to claw it out.

It's going to, he realises as he drives Lydia to the warehouse district. It's going to claw its way through the earth, through a wolfsbane spiral and Stiles will finally be free of the ghost, trapped under his skin, in his veins.

"Keep that away from me," he tells her as she scoops up the wolfsbane powder. Another kind he'd found, and it should knock Derek out sufficiently.

It does - the alpha blinking as it goes in his eyes and then drops like a stone. Stiles catches him, hearing the sound of snarls from Derek's betas as they battle the moon. They don’t even notice them, and Stiles wants to keep it that way. He therefore doesn't ask Lydia to help, calling on some unknown strength to drag Derek's body and dump him in the back of the jeep. The wolfsbane should keep him out for a while, at least until moon high.

It does. By the time Derek wakes he's still paralyzed, wrapped in wolfsbane and in the burnt out wreck of his own house. Stiles thinks that burying Peter's burnt body in the burnt house was a stroke of twisted genius on Derek's behalf.

 

Derek strains his neck, staring at Lydia. "Lydia," Derek begs as she paces around him, scattering wolfsbane petals, "Lydia, stop. You don't know what you're doing."

"Don't we?" Stiles asks, tipping a mirror and considering the angle before adjusting it slightly.

Derek cranes his neck to see Stiles. The teenager looks dazed, slightly drunk.

"Stiles?" he asks, confused, "What are you doing? You have to stop this. Stop Lydia…"

Lydia remains silent and Stiles just watches, staying away from the wolfsbane and pacing around the mirrors, adjusting them and fitting them into place.

"Stiles," Derek hisses, "Stiles, look at me."

The teen tilts his head and glances lazily at Derek. He doesn't say anything, but his amber eyes flicker a bright, electric blue.

Derek feels his breath catch in his throat. "How?" he breaths. Stiles just stares at him blankly, and doesn't answer. The teenager looks terrible, Derek thinks. With all the chaos, he hadn’t really noticed until now, but Stiles’ hair is long - spiked and ruffled like he’s just slept on it. His eyes have dark shadows under them and his skin is pale, almost sickly looking.

Lydia in comparison looks just as ill, but she’s hidden the sleepless nights under make up and pretty clothes so it’s barely visible. She stands, stepping backwards and glances at Stiles.

He nods and tilts the final mirror.

The moonlight catches, reflecting in arcs across the room and Derek feels it, burning through it. He is nothing but a conduit though, and he can feel it pouring straight through him and into the corpse below.

The floorboards crack as Peter surges up, dust covered, but very, very alive.

"I heard there was a party." he grins, "Don't worry. I invited myself."

 

Stiles drags Lydia out of there.

Neither of them want to talk to Peter right now, nor do they want to explain themselves to Derek.

He drops Lydia at home, and she looks like she wants to ask Stiles to stay when there is a text from Scott about the kanima and "I told him," Stiles mutters, "I knew Matt was up to no good."

"What?" Lydia asks, "What is it?"

Stiles looks up at her, "I need to go. Scott's worked out who's controlling the kanima."

She nods, and backs towards her house. Stiles watches her go for a second before clambering back into his jeep.

 

He helps Scott and his dad find evidence against Matt. But then Stiles turns around and finds himself staring a gun in the face. Matt grins at him, looking slightly psychotic, and for a moment all Stiles can see is Peter, leering at him.

He stumbles backwards.

"I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It's like a frickin' Halloween party every full moon. Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

Derek is glaring at Stiles with some resentment from his position on the floor. Stiles just feels what is left of the moon's power bubble in his veins and he knows his eyes flare blue because Matt frowns and Scott gasps. Peter's no longer clinging to him, suppressing the bite, and Stiles knows he's a werewolf now.

At least he hopes he is, because he doesn't want to turn into a homicidal lizard.

"I don't have time for this," Stiles spits out, "I just helped to resurrect Derek's psychotic uncle, can't I catch a break for once?"

And it's partially due to that psychotic uncle that Stiles actually has the reflexes to duck the kanima's swing.

Matt's not going to let that fly though, so Stiles just makes for the door, the kanima darting after him.

Stiles leads the thing on a merry dance around the station. Meanwhile some super-sensory hearing lets him know that Matt is ranting to Scott, and Derek is still lying on the floor.

That's about when the kanima tackles him through the window straight out into the parking lot and some idiotic hunters open fire on the station.

"Stiles?"

Okay, maybe not so idiotic, he thinks, rolling away from the kanima's claws and scrambling up, snarling slightly. He doesn't feel transformed the way Scott and Derek do, losing their eyebrows and the weird sideburns. But he knows he has fangs because he can feel them piercing his lip and his sight is suddenly a whole lot better.

Which means he can see it when Allison appears above him, see her gasp and step back. "You got bitten?" she asks, "Was it Derek?"

"Derek?" Stiles splutters, and looks about for the kanima, "What? No. Peter."

"Peter?" Allison is confused, and that's when her dad and grandfather appear in Stiles' vision and Stiles thinks it's about time to just get out of there.

He runs. It's easy enough to vanish in the smoke and he circles around to head back to help his dad when someone grabs his collar.

He knows who it is. He doesn't even have to turn or smell or wait for that scathing voice, "You didn't stick around to say 'hi'."

Stiles pulls himself out of Peter's grip. "Well excuse me for not wanting to talk to the psychopath who has been haunting me for the past few weeks."

Peter sighs, "Stiles, you're going to have to learn to get over that if you want my help."

"Your help for what?" Stiles asks with a glare.

Peter grins wryly. "Your eyes are a beautiful colour," he says instead, stepping forwards. His own eyes flash to bright blue. "Do you know what it means?"

Stiles swallows. He doesn't know. "I thought it was genetic, since Scott and Derek's betas all have yellow eyes." he says instead. "But mine were yellow too… for a bit… I think. But then they…"

"They change." Peter hums, "When you take an innocent life." He examines his nails. "It was the one thing I needed you to do. To kill. It's how a pack bonds."

Stiles feels sick. "You made me kill that guy," he challenges, "That hiker in the woods. They never actually found a body. He's just missing. I looked it up."

Peter grins. Stiles wonders how he's found clothes and gotten clean in such a short space of time. "You might have noticed," he gestures to his eyes, "I'm not an alpha anymore. But you… you're a wolf. And you currently have no pack…"

"No," Stiles steps back, "You're not my alpha. And you're not my pack. Lydia isn't your pack. You have no claim to us."

Peter's gaze grows hard, "Stiles, _really_?" he purrs.

Stiles doesn't listen. He turns around and breaks into a run, heading back for the Sheriff's station.

If he ever sees Peter's face again it will be too soon.

 

Stiles avoids Scott after the incident at the Police Station.

In fact he avoids nearly everyone except Lydia, who has forgiven him for ditching her.

He hasn't told Scott that Peter's back. But then again Derek probably has.

Scott knows Stiles is now a werewolf. But beyond that Scott is preoccupied with his mom and Gerard who is now the kanimas master.

So Stiles keeps going, hanging out with Lydia and finding that beyond the 'going crazy' they actually have stuff in common. She kisses him again, and it's finally lacking that sense of desperation they had before. It's just them, no Peter, no hallucinations.

She comes to the championship game. Stiles doesn't think he's going to make it off the bench, but Scott is benched for reasons so Stiles is out there. Isaac keeps knocking players out though, and so Stiles keeps away from him. The one time Isaac does appear to be considering knocking Stiles out, he flashes blue eyes at him and it's enough to make Isaac question the decision.

Stiles doesn't know if it's his enhanced reflexes or just the knowledge that Lydia is watching him, but his game play improves. Coach's mouth is slack jawed and Stiles feels oddly pleased with himself, looking around for Scott when someone grabs him and something cuts into his skin.

 

After he's escaped from Gerard, leaving Erica and Boyd hanging there, he talks with his dad, reassuring him. Then Lydia shows up, talking about how they have to do something.

Jackson is dead. Apparently that's a thing. Then it isn't, and Stiles just wants to keep Lydia far away from anymore supernatural shenanigans.

But it's not an option here, so he and Lydia crash the party late, the jeep going straight through a wall and knocking into the kanima.

For a moment Stiles allows himself a moment of triumph, and then Jackson-kanima snarls and he hastens to scramble out of the jeep.

 

Lydia gives Jackson the key. He starts turning back to human and then Derek and Peter - fuck - show up to stab him with their claws. Hopefully he's dead this time, Stiles thinks, just as Jackson stands up and lets out a werewolf roar.

So, not dead. Jackson gapes at them, and his eyes find Lydia, softening in relief. Stiles' heart does some sort of weird thump as he realises that as much as they bonded (and had amazing sex) over going crazy together, that's probably going to end now. It is okay, he tells himself, he can live with that.

But instead Lydia does the unthinkable. She steps backwards away from Jackson. She steps back, almost walking into Scott before turning and, finding Stiles, throws herself into his arms.

"Take me home," she whimpers into his shoulder.

Stiles swallows, ignoring the stares of everyone else and wraps one arm around Lydia, pulling her towards his jeep. She freezes when she spots Peter and Stiles finds himself snarling at the ex-alpha despite himself.

"Rude," Peter frowns.

"Stay away from us," Stiles says, and it's a clear threat.

"You bit him?" Derek hisses at Peter, "What the hell? He hadn't been a wolf at all until a week ago."

Peter shrugs, unbothered, "It took a while to take."

Stiles opens the door to his jeep as Derek steps forwards, "Stiles, wait… if you're a wolf, then you need a pack…"

Stiles snorts, "You too?" he asks, "You're not my alpha," he retorts, "Neither of you." he glares at Peter. "I already have a pack," he glances from Lydia to Scott and a tentative glance at Allison. He nods at Scott and his friend winces, but nods back as Stiles hops into his jeep, Lydia behind him, and he hopes to god that his car isn’t permanently damaged.

 

The jeep splutters to life and Stiles slowly begins backing it out of the warehouse. Jackson is still standing naked, looking around confused. "Since when were Stilinski and Lydia a thing?" he asks, and Chris finally makes to find Jackson some clothes.

Allison is looking confused too.

"Peter." Scott says, glaring at the wolf in question, "Peter's been haunting them for the past month. He used them to resurrect himself."

"You're acting as if this is my fault," Peter shrugs, "I wasn't physically doing anything. I just gave them some memories, tied myself to them in their bites. It's not my fault they hallucinated me."

Scott snorts, glancing around, "You come near Stiles or Lydia again…" he settles for, glaring at the blue-eyed man, "And I'll kill you.”

Peter seems undeterred. “Tell Stiles and Lydia. They’ll probably help. If they’re not planning it already."

He actually looks mildly worried at that thought.


End file.
